Dusk
by CombustibleSpaghetti
Summary: It's been three years since the second war between Dalmasca and Archadia and Ivalice's economy is suffering. Ashe and Larsa must struggle to make their countries prosperous once more all the while dealing with an old enemy who's come back from the dead.
1. Chapter 1

Have you ever wondered what would happen if Dr. Cid _hadn't _died? I certainly have. Cheesy as it may sound at the moment (especially with that terrible summary that I have to replace as soon as I come up with a better one), this tale does in fact include a living Dr. Cid a little more than three years after the freeing of Dalmasca. Also, it's only fair to warn you that there is a main character that is an OC, although she will not be "paired up" with another character. If you're not into that kind of thing, it'd still be great if you at least gave the first chapter a shot.

This _will _contain small moments of BalthierxAshe, although it is most certainly not the main focus of the story. VaanxPenelo will be hinted on occasion as well. No other pairings will be involved…for now. :)

I hope you enjoy the story!

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Final Fantasy XII universe. That all belongs to Square-Enix. I do, however, own my little OC!**

**-----**

**::Old Friends::**

Four hours to go.

The words rung through Balthier's mind as he landed the _Strahl_ in Archades' Aerodome. After each hour passed by, he would silently curse himself for accepting to attend Larsa's birthday ball. The young emperor was turning sixteen--a big deal for Archadian rulers. At that age, they would have to begin searching for a wife. The poor kid didn't want to at all but no amount of negotiating with the Senate would get them to change that rule.

However, it wasn't the fact that Larsa was sixteen that made Balthier regret coming. No, it was far from that. It was the guests. And not just some of the guests; all of them. They were nearly all money-obsessed Archadian gentry, self-obsessed royalty, and work-obsessed scientists. Not only were the people disgusting, but they made it so damn tempting to go around and steal from them all. Gil was short these days and it required a lot of restraint to get Balthier and his Viera partner nottosteal from a group of completely arrogant Archadian upperclassmen.

"It is too late to turn back now," Fran said, reading him perfectly as always. "You gave him our word."

"Yes, yes, I know," Balthier grumbled.

Before exiting the ship, the two sky pirates slipped into their own small rooms to change into more suitable clothing for a ball; Balthier into a neat black suit accessorized, as always, with his many pieces of stolen jewelry and Fran into a simple black gown. As they emerged from their respective cabins, Balthier took a moment to flirtatiously smile at his partner.

"You look quite stunning this evening."

Fran ignored his compliment. "I simply cannot see how Hume women can wear these gowns. They are much too loose and provide absolutely no protection anywhere."

Balthier chuckled as he saw the faint outline of a few pieces of Fran's armor underneath the dress. It was amusing how she never once complained about pain, weather, or even Vaan's juvenile antics. The one thing she _did_ complain about – although it wasn't often – was Hume clothing.

As they exited the Aerodome and walked through some of the lesser Archadian streets, they were met with a wave of homeless citizens. Balthier was honestly shocked by the sheer number of them. He didn't expect the war to have done so much damage, not to Archades. The city had always seemed to be unfazed during times of crisis. The rich carried on working and shopping, the poor continued stealing, and the people in between just kept trying to climb up to higher ranks. But not now, it seemed.

Most of the homeless stayed to themselves, huddled up against a wall or in an alleyway. Others, mainly the orphans, were performing in the street, making a sad attempt to earn money. His mind flitted back to Rabanastre during the war three years ago. It was just like this, only a bit worse. There was war on the horizon back then, after all.

A thought struck him: Had he caused this? They had killed so many Imperials on their journey with Ashe. He had avoided considering that they were humans with families as well, but it had always plagued him in the back of his mind, although severely muted by other trivial problems. Did he just create more situations like what Vaan and Penelo had to go through?

He mentally slapped himself, once again casting the thoughts away. It seemed that the only time he thought about things like this was in Archades. It was one of the reasons he had left the city in the first place. There were too many _problems_. You couldn't turn a corner without worrying about some issue that you overheard a streetear talking about. He was a sky pirate, anyway. Why should he care?

"Do you suppose he'll have some appetizers when we arrive?" Balthier questioned, desperate to distract himself with something. His stomach did feel rather empty anyways.

"Perhaps," Fran said. "Knowing Larsa, he has probably prepared the whole kitchen for us. He has always been overly generous."

"Well as long as he offers food and maybe even a bath, I'll be content," Balthier said.

They continued to walk in silence and still didn't exchange a word as they boarded a taxi. It wasn't unusual for them to go for such a long time without conversation—there had been whole days that had gone by without them saying more than a few words to each other—but at the moment it gave Balthier an unsettling feeling. He finally concluded that the feeling was aroused from the city itself and nothing more.

As the small airship's doors opened when they reached the palace, the thieving duo stepped outside. Balthier stared up at the grand building that loomed above him and frowned.

"Well, here we go."

**-----**

Larsa Ferrinas Solidor had been kindly excused from all duties by the Senate today. Saying that this was a rare occurrence would be an understatement. It was all because today he was sixteen, although he would rather it have been his fifteenth birthday again. In emperor years, sixteen meant he was practically full-grown, and being full-grown meant having to find a spouse. It wasn't that he didn't want to ever get married--he most certainly did if he found the right person. But to be forced to be wed to a near stranger? It would only create tension and unhappiness for the emperor and, in time, perhaps even his people.

"No wonder all the past children came out to be so insane," Larsa mulled to his most trusted companion, Judge Magister Gabranth, who was in fact notGabranth but his twin brother.

"You must go into this with optimism, Larsa." Basch removed his horned iron helmet, revealing a scarred face and long blond hair. "There are many potential suitors out there. Not all royalty is bad. You and Lady Ashe are living proof of that."

A faint smile crossed Larsa's lips as he sat back in his gold-covered chair that was beginning to lose its luster from age. "Yes, I suppose. But it feels as though she and I are the _only_ decent ones out there and the Gods know I could never begin to court _her_. If only…" He trailed off, beginning to frown.

Basch raised an eyebrow. "If only?"

"If only I could choose people other than royalty," Larsa sighed.

Basch grinned. It was much too easy to read the boy when it came to women. "Have you anyone in mind?"

"W-What? No! No, certainly not!" Redness creeped up Larsa's cheeks as he turned away from his guard. After a moment of silence he was able to compose himself and didn't hesitate to change the subject.

"So…when do you suppose our pirate friends will arrive?"

"I would think any moment—"

As if on cue, the tall doors that led to Larsa's private quarters were opened and the infamous sky pirates stepped into the room, clad in ballroom attire. Completely forgetting his previous awkward conversation, Larsa jumped up out of his seat and rushed over to greet Balthier and Fran, smiling from ear to ear. They were the same as always; Balthier witty and confident, Fran quiet and wise. So many things had changed in the past three years that Larsa was almost relieved to see something that had stayed the same.

"You've made it!" he exclaimed. For once the serious façade of an emperor he put up left his eyes, revealing Larsa to be nothing but a teenager delighted to see old friends.

"Of course we have--I'm a man of my word," Balthier replied, smiling back at him. "It seems we have arrived at the right time, too. The socialites are beginning to gather around the palace."

"Happy birthday, Larsa," Fran added.

Larsa's grin only widened. "Thank you."

"I hear that Vaan and Penelo are here as well," Balthier said.

"Yes, but unfortunately they didn't come prepared like you." Larsa shook his head. "I had to send them out shopping."

"Vaan? Shopping for ball attire?" Balthier chuckled. "Let's just hope that Penelo helps him."

Basch grinned. "I'm sure she will."

They all paused for a moment. Larsa took the time to seize the opportunity to make sure that his guests' outfits were appropriate for a ball. Not that he doubted their ability to dress for the occasion, but one could never know when it came to Fran and Balthier. He was relieved to see that Fran's dress was, well, _modest, _unlike her typical suit of armor and Balthier looked like any other Archadian gentry aside from the jewelry, of course. But Larsa supposed he could let that slide.

"Will Ashe be joining us as well?" Fran inquired, breaking the silence and drawing Larsa out of his thoughts. At the mention of Ashe, his face fell.

"I'm afraid not. She's much too busy with her own matters."

"That's a shame."

Basch nodded, folding his hands behind his back in a customary bodyguard stance. "Indeed it is. She is planning some festivities of her own next month, though, so hopefully we can attend that all together."

At that moment, another set of doors behind his desk opened and a young maid poked her head in. "Lord Larsa? You must begin to prepare for the ball now."

Larsa nodded, instantly transforming back into an emperor. "I apologize for having to leave so soon. Please, order anything you'd like from the kitchen. If wish to go early, the ballroom is on the ground floor. Basch can show you the way. It was a pleasure seeing you again."

Balthier bowed deeply with the slightest hint of a smirk on his face. "The pleasure was all mine."

Larsa had to keep himself from laughing in front of the maid. Only those who knew Balthier could tell that he was mocking the upper class.

"Goodbye Balthier, Fran," he said to his guests with an uncontrollable smile. "I look forward to seeing you later at the ball."

"As do we," Fran said, swishing her head to get a stray hair out of her eyes.

Larsa gave them a final wave and walked out of the main room of his quarters. With almost all of his old friends here, nearly all his previous worries and nerves had been quelled. Perhaps the ball wouldn't turn out to be so bad after all. He knew it would at least prove to be a good distraction from the current state of the economy. And that, he thought to himself (although he admitted that it was a bit selfish), was all he needed at the moment.

**---**

Dr. Cid sat back in his chair, brow creased as he drew various sized triangles across the top of the blank piece of paper before him. It was an old habit of his. Occasionally he would form houses out of the triangles, but today he decided to make mostly hourglasses.

Upon first seeing him absentmindedly doodle, anyone would assume that he was just bored. But soon they would see how hard he thrust the pen on the paper and the intense stare in his eyes. No, if you worked for Dr. Cidolfus Demen Bunansa, seeing triangles dotted across his paper was not a good sign. When it came to him, triangles meant that he was angry; a rarely displayed side that meant something had either gone wrong or someone had _done_ something wrong.

Suddenly the door to his small but luxurious office opened. A slender but rather short woman slipped inside the dimly lit room silently, immediately shutting the door after she had entered. The brunette looked tense as she sat down in a less comfortable chair in front of Dr. Cid's desk. Her eyes trailed over his paper and she bit her lower lip as she noticed the triangles.

"You…wanted to see me?"

Dr. Cid leaned forward in his chair, allowing his face to be fully illuminated by the single small window in his office. A long scar ran down the left side of his face, continued down his neck, and disappeared under his clothes, although undoubtedly crossed down his chest. The scar only added on to the angry look he had, and he could see the woman's eyes widen as she saw his caustic glare.

"Do you know _why_ I'm drawing hourglasses today?"

His employee shook her head. "No, sir…"

"Because hourglasses tell time, something which _you_ are obviously incapable of doing."

"I apologize, sir. You see—"

"I don't need an excuse!"

The woman clenched her mouth shut and sat back in her chair. Dr. Cid stared at her for a moment before continuing.

"Now, I do hope you have heard about the newest Solidor's latest event. As usual, the palace will be full of scientists, many of whom used to be my companions." He reached into his pocket as he spoke and placed an invitation to the ball on the desk, "You need to go there, connect with someone who has access to the laboratory, and get them to take you to Draklor some time after hours. I'll take it from there."

The woman slowly took the invitation, reading the contents inside. "I understand the ball but…Draklor? I thought we got everything from there."

"Not quite." As the woman looked up at him, Dr. Cid gave her a sly grin.

"Nethicite?" she whispered, as if saying the word would curse her. "But…sir…it's all dead now. That's why the government allowed Draklor to keep a small amount of it."

"Who says man cannot create something equivalent to that found in nature? I _have _done it before." Dr. Cid pointed out. "Now go. You've less than four hours until the ball starts. I expect to have a set date for your after-hours visit within a week."

The woman nodded and stood up. She was about to leave the room when he added in a much softer tone, "Oh, and I hear that my…son will be there. Could you…?"

She just smiled. "Of course."


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you so much to all those who reviewed! You have no idea how happy it makes me to check my e-mail and find that someone's commented on my work. It really inspires me, especially if it contains constructive critism.

I admit that I am reusing a character from one of my past stories. I've spent so much time creating her that I felt like she should at least be included in one long-lasting fic (which I hope this will turn out to be)!

**Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Final Fantasy XII. However, I do own my OC. **

**-----**

**::The Ball::**

Balthier strode into the massive ballroom with Fran at his side. It had been years and years since he had last visited the room and it seemed to have only grown larger. The golden, embossed ceilings almost glittered in the light cast from the sparkling crystal chandeliers that dotted the room, making the area one of the brightest in all of Ivalice. The rich, dark wood floors hadn't a scratch on them even after centuries of use (and obviously quite a bit of maintenance) and valuable artwork adorned the walls. The many tables clad in white cloths and covered in expensive silverware and flower bouquets would have just cluttered the room in any other space, but not here. Even with all of the trivial decorations, the ballroom still upheld a simple elegance that wasn't garish at all. To sum it up in one word, it was magnificent.

Guests had just begun trickling through the doors of the palace, although it was nobody important. Those select few would make their entrance later. Balthier took the time to find his and Fran's places at one of the tables. It didn't take long—Larsa had made sure to place them right beside him and the Judge Magisters as his honored guests with Vaan and Penelo. They were listed as their aliases, of course. Fran took her sister's name, Mjrn, and Balthier's Nolle, after one of his favorite play characters.

Balthier glimpsed over at Fran. She was analyzing the room. He knew that even though she didn't show it, she was impressed with the grandeur of the palace. He also knew that, like him, her fingers were itching to steal at least one little crystal from off the chandeliers. But certainly not for the thrill. Fran never stole just for the _thrill_. She stole to survive, which was getting harder and harder to do these days.

"Tempting, isn't it?" he muttered to her.

"Indeed it is." She adjusted her hair for a moment before asking, "Do you expect to see anyone familiar tonight?"

Balthier thought for a moment. He didn't _want _to expect it, but he knew it was inevitable to see an old companion or rival, or even just someone he passed by on the road a few times and just happened to notice.

"Yes. Maybe not anyone important, but there's bound to be one or two faces in the crowd."

Balthier turned around to survey the room again, this time watching to see if anyone interesting chose to appear at the ball. For a while, just the regular gentry entered the room. But then like a flash of lightning in the dull night sky, two blonds bickering loudly made their way into the room.

"I see Vaan and Penelo have managed to find their way inside," he commented to Fran, who instantly turned around in search of them.

It didn't take long for the orphans to notice the sky pirates either. When Vaan caught sight of Balthier, he thrust his hand up in the air and started waving rapidly, only to have it quickly pulled down by an embarrassed Penelo. Balthier sighed as Vaan latched on to her hand and dragged her to his old friends. Even at the age of twenty he was still as childish as ever.

It seemed that Penelo did manage to find them decent attire, though. Vaan, for one, was in a clean-cut black suit that fit him quite well, considering they only had a few hours to find an outfit. Penelo, on the other hand, looked much more mature than usual due to the peach gown that flowed around her. Her hair was let loose from its tight ponytails, coming down to her shoulder blades in gentle waves. Balthier was surprised at this, as it seemed that she _never _took out her pigtails.

"Balthier! Fran!" Vaan exclaimed, and the said man quickly placed a finger over his lips.

"It's _Nolle_ and _Mjrn _here, thank you very much," he corrected him. "I'd rather not be arrested tonight, particularly not at a birthday party of all places."

"Oh. Sorry," Vaan quickly apologized

"It's been a while since we've seen you two," Penelo said in an attempt to bring up a conversation.

"We've been busy. I am sure you have been as well," Fran said.

Vaan nodded. "Oh yeah! In a good way, though. We've been having a blast."

"_He's_ been, at least," Penelo added. "I swear, some of the places he drags me to…"

"I can only imagine," Balthier said dryly.

Vaan just shrugged. "What can I say? It gets us a good amount of gil _and _a healthy dose of adventure. You should've seen the size of this one flan we ran into in Rozzaria!"

Penelo shot Vaan a never-bring-that-up-again glare. "Don't remind me."

Balthier sighed. It was just like old times. There were times when he actually missed their constant bantering, but then he met up with them and was reminded of how _annoying _they were. But still, he couldn't help but be glad to see the young sky pirates.

Taking a moment to glance around once more, Balthier noticed that the room was just about full and it seemed that nearly all of the guests had arrived. "Looks like it's just about time for His Majesty to make his entrance."

At this, Penelo smiled and Vaan let out an excited "Yes!" and then babbled on about something concerning the food that would be brought out after the emperor's entrance. Balthier chose to block out this particular rant. He noticed that Penelo had, too, and murmured to her, "I don't suppose he's changed much, has he?"

Penelo sighed and shook her head. "No, not at all. Although he _has _decided to start wearing a shirt under his vest." She grinned, "I think Paramina Rift taught him a much-needed lesson about how important clothing can be."

"It's about time," Balthier said as Vaan finished his long drabble that Fran was unfortunate enough to have been forced to endure.

"…and _that's _why this ball is so awesome. At least, when it comes to food it is," Vaan concluded, to which Fran simply responded with a nod.

Suddenly a guard positioned at the largest doorway that was just to the right of the group slammed the butt of his spear on the floor, causing a loud clang to echo through the room. Every guest hushed at once and the small orchestra that had been playing stopped abruptly. When the guard was sure that he had gotten everyone's attention, he stepped forward a few feet so that two other guards could position themselves in front of the doorknobs.

"Presenting His Majesty, the great Emperor Larsa Ferrinas Solidor!" the guard boomed before moving out of the ruler's path. The doors were opened and Larsa walked out, dressed in a deep green outfit that was customary of all Archadian emperors. His robe was a matching color that was trimmed in silver and barely skirted the floor. As the crowd caught sight of their young leader they burst into applause that continued until he took his place on a raised platform. At that moment, he looked much like his father would have at his age. Balthier only hoped that Larsa had inherited just the looks and not the illnesses.

"Thank you," he said, the crowd immediately hushing again. Larsa then began his opening speech, a customary part of each and every ball. Balthier forced himself to listen, although found it a bit difficult to concentrate (this had always been the time at parties when he excused himself to go pickpocket preoccupied guests). Speeches had never quite been able to pique his interest. Thankfully, Larsa concluded his after around five minutes and allowed the orchestra to begin playing again.

"Look! They're bringing in the food!" Vaan exclaimed once the room was again filled with conversation. "Come on, Penelo!" Before she could protest, he grabbed his companion by the hand again and proceeded to drag her towards the other end of the room. Balthier shook his head with a small smile as he watched them disappear into the crowd before turning to Fran.

"Well it seems that Larsa and Basch are a bit caught up in greeting some of the potential suitors," he said. "We might as well do something so…Dancing or eating?"

"Eating." Fran's response was quick and straight to the point as always. Before they began walking, Balthier held out his arm. The Viera took it with a smile and they followed after the other pair of pirates.

At one of the many buffet tables filled with everything from rich desserts to perfectly ripe Archadian berries to stews, Fran and Balthier began to pick out a few things to eat. Just as he was reaching for a particularly delicious-looking Dalmascan tart, a woman snatched it off the platter and dumped it on to her own plate.

The woman quickly gasped. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry! Were you reaching for…" She trailed off as Balthier turned to look at her. Immediately he regretted doing so.

"Ffamran?"

"It's _Nolle _here, actually," Balthier said, already tired of correcting people about his name. "Hello to you, too, Valeia."

Of all the people in the world, Balthier had least expected to see the woman named Valeia at the ball. Although a scientist, she had never been the type to go to formal parties. He should know. He had once been so close to her that it was tempting to go right ahead and call Valeia his sister. She was an absolute genius when it came to airships, and his father had even taken her in as his apprentice. Balthier used to consider her one of the only sane people in Archades, and he genuinely hoped that she had remained that way.

Valeia chuckled. "Nolle? I see you're still obsessed with those plays…Say, how many names do you have nowadays anyway? I mean, there's at least three now, isn't there?"

"I see someone's been paying attention to wanted posters," Balthier said.

She smiled. "It's hard _not _to recognize you even with just a passing glance, Ffa—Bal—_Nolle_. Hey, how about we go sit down somewhere? I'd love to catch up a bit and—"

"Eat?" Balthier finished for her. The brunette just smiled sheepishly and gave him a quick shrug. He actually found himself wanting to catch up with his old friend and answered yes, but excused himself for a moment to "fill up the rest of his plate." After telling her to meet him on a nearby balcony (their conversation would no doubt contain things that he would rather other people not overhear), she walked off and Balthier turned to Fran.

"A familiar face?" the Viera said to him.

"Yes, and I'd like to speak with her a bit," he answered. "She can tell me about what happened during my absence with the nethicite and such."

"And your father?" Fran added.

Balthier sighed. "…Perhaps. I'll be back shortly."

"I will be at the table."

"Right then."

And with that, Balthier left his partner and headed towards Valeia. As he approached her, his pace slowed. He hadn't noticed it before, having been so close to her, but she looked much more elegant than she did eight years ago. Her hair was tied up in a neat bun and the muscular figure she used to have had thinned out, making her look more like the fragile upper class women. Balthier had to admit that she turned out to be rather pretty. Not _stunning_, but pretty.

He finally got to the table that was placed on the tiny balcony and set his plate down, sitting across from Valeia, whose plate was already cleared of all food. She didn't wait a moment to start talking.

"So, you finally got away from the city, huh?"

"I have," Balthier said. He popped a berry in his mouth, chewing and swallowing before saying, "And you haven't, I see. I assume you got a position at Draklor?"

"I did. But I quit during the war. It was too…strange there with the nethicite obsession and all. I haven't really had to work since then, although I've been doing a few private projects. And what about you? Have you been doing anything else other than stealing and helping out supposedly dead princesses and flying through the air?"

"Well when you put it that way, not really. Have _you _been doing anything else other than stealing and working with airships?"

Valeia let out a laugh. "When you put it that way, not really," she copied him. "But I don't steal anymore. No, I'm too well off and those merchants need every coin they can get right now."

They both sat in silence for a moment, each having many things to say but not knowing where to begin. Finally, Valeia leaned forward a bit and asked him in a hushed tone, "Is it true that you killed him?"

The question caught Balthier off guard. There was only one person she could be talking about: Cid. The man had been as much as a father to her as he had been to him. As he answered her question, he struggled to uphold his nonchalant demeanor. "Technically, no. I didn't land the fatal blow. But I helped."

"Hm." The woman leaned back in her chair again. "Did you even care about him after you left?"

"Of course. But he turned into a madman. He was threatening the lives of thousands, probably even millions of people. It had to be done." Balthier's voice was stiff, and his tone made it clear that he wanted to move on to the next topic, although Valeia seemed to ignore it.

"He loved you, you know. And he missed you terribly even when he was most blinded by the nethicite." She waited a second before completely turning the conversation around. "So…any women in your life?"

The change of topic was so drastic that Balthier couldn't help but smile. "No, no, not at all."

"Not even the Viera?"

"Fran? Certainly not."

"The Queen? I hear she wore incredibly short skirts."

"No. You know I'm not a pig like that."

"Well you _are _a sky pirate."

"A _gentleman _sky pirate."

"But still a sky pirate."

"But a respectful one who doesn't fall for women just because they display themselves nicely. I have class, you know."

"When you're _sober_. I still haven't forgotten what happened at that bar…"

"Says the dramatically angry and classless drunk that got us kicked out."

"Well you were the one that got that other guy mad." Valeia grinned and glanced up at an intricately-carven grandfather clock. Her face immediately fell as she saw the time. "I have to go. I made a deal to meet up with a colleague in five minutes." She stood up and wiped a few crumbs off of her navy blue gown. "You have no idea how nice it was to see you again. How long are you in town for? We should meet up and have lunch some time."

Balthier rose as well. "I was planning to leave as soon as possible, but I suppose I could stay another day. There are some things I'd like to discuss with you in a more private setting."

"How's tomorrow then? One o'clock at my apartment. I haven't moved, so you know where it is. Your friend is welcome to join us if she'd like to," she said.

"That sounds fine. I'll see you then."

Valeia uttered a short good-bye in return then hurried off back towards the tables of food. He watched her leave before heading back to his designated seat. As he made his way through the throng, he caught a brief glimpse of her at the buffet. Once again, she snatched a piece of food as another man was about to take it for himself. It appeared that her reaction was the same as when Balthier ran into her. Questions rising in his mind, he quickly made his way over to Fran.

"Did you get any information you were looking for?" his partner said to him when he arrived at the table.

"Not quite. I couldn't ask her about the nethicite or Draklor. There were too many people hovering around and she had to leave. We've arranged a meeting for tomorrow at one, though," Balthier replied. He paused, thinking back to what he saw just moments before. "She's up to something. I don't know what, but I'd certainly like to find out."

Fran cocked her head to the side. "Do you suppose it's something to be concerned about?"

Balthier shook his head. "I'm not sure yet. Hopefully tomorrow we can find out…We don't have enough money for a room at an inn, do we?"

"Not quite," Fran replied. "Perhaps enough for one of the lesser inns near the Aerodome, but certainly nothing comfortable. We may have to sleep in the ship."

"I'll ask Larsa if we can stay here then. A leading man should not be forced to endure sleeping on such a dreadful mattress for so long."

-----

Later that night after the rather boring ball had ended, Larsa and Basch walked with Fran and Balthier to show them their rooms. Balthier didn't know why, but the emperor had insisted that he show them the way instead of a maid. The four stopped in front of a door which Basch opened, revealing a lavishly-decorated guest bedroom and letting them inside.

After the door had been shut firmly behind them, Larsa turned and looked at the two sky pirates with serious eyes. "I need to ask a favor of you two, but you _cannot _speak of it to anyone else. Not to Vaan or Penelo even."

"What is it?" Balthier inquired.

Larsa took in a breath. "Strange things have been going on lately. At least six traders carrying large shipments of goods have gone missing outside the city, abandoned houses have just been suddenly catching on fire in Old Archades, and three small hovercrafts have been stolen from Draklor. It may not seem like a big deal, but the occurrences are just too out of the ordinary. The missing traders and fires just seem too planned, and for some reason I have a gut feeling that it's by the same person."

"You want us to look into this for you?" Balthier guessed, raising his eyebrows.

The emperor let out a sigh. "Yes, I do. There's no one else I can trust besides Basch, and he has to stay here. I'll pay you, too. I'm not sure how much yet, but your work will surely be compensated. I would have asked Vaan and Penelo but Vaan's simply too rash and who knows how they would handle the situation. You would only have to remain here for a week or so. I only need a small investigation, just to see if there's something we should look further into. The Gods know we don't need to be terrorized during these economic times."

Balthier glanced towards Fran, who gave him a nod. He turned back to Larsa. "I don't see why we can't do that. But, really, there's no need to pay us."

Larsa grinned and Balthier could see a weight lifted off of his shoulders. "Thank you so much. But I _will _pay you. If you don't want gil then I can give you something else. I won't let your work go unrewarded, though. It's the least I can do."

"You are too generous," Fran said, giving the young ruler a small smile. "Food and a place to stay are all Balthier and I require."

"Alright then," Larsa said. "I wish you two a good night. And thank you…again."

"Good night," Basch nodded to the two. "If you need anything, there should be a guard positioned at the end of this hallway."

The emperor and the knight left the room, leaving Fran and Balthier alone. The former sky pirate didn't hesitate to say her good byes and retire to her room across the hall. Balthier took a moment to enjoy the peaceful quiet before slipping off his jacket and shoes and lying back on the bed. He didn't even think about getting washed up and fully changing; he just wanted to _sleep_. Within two minutes, he had fallen into a deep slumber, knowing that tomorrow would be one hell of a day.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thanks again to those who left reviews! Not much to say about this chapter, although it does have a quite a bit of dialogue. :D Hope you enjoy it!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any part of Final Fantasy XII. However, I _do _own Valeia!

**-----**

**::Suspicions::**

_Knock. Knock. _

Balthier stood with Fran on the doorstep of a small apartment in the center of Archades. It wasn't a very fancy building, and certainly did not suggest that one of Draklor's former top scientists lived within. It just went to show how little some scientists were home. The hallway that they were in smelled musty and stale, causing Balthier to crinkle his nose in disgust. He didn't remember the apartment building being so ragged looking. It had been nearly a decade since he had last been there, after all.

"Just a minute!" Valeia's voice was faint and Balthier could barely hear it over the bell tower ringing nearby, screaming to the world that it was one o'clock.

"We must inquire about the crimes," Fran said suddenly. "Perhaps she knows a little about them."

Balthier nodded, now beginning to regret agreeing to aid Larsa the night before. It hadn't even been a full day since they were in the city and he was already growing rather annoyed. "Hopefully she knows more than a little and we can get this over with."

A moment later, the door opened, revealing a casually-dressed Valeia who clearly hadn't bothered taking down her bun from last night, leaving her hair to form into a messy half-bun. "Hi," she greeted them, moving out of the way so the two could step inside the two-room apartment.

Inside it looked like she had made an attempt to clean up, but had clearly failed. Dust gathered on almost every surface except for the large table covered in papers stacked into piles. In fact, it seemed as if the piles of papers were the only organized things in the home. Dishes were piled in the sink, some covered with a rag that looked like it was supposed to disguise the mess. There was a beat-up couch that sat by one of the two windows in the room, accompanied by two mismatched armchairs that appeared old, to say the least. A shirt was even hanging from the edge of a counter, which Valeia quickly noticed and snatched, throwing it into the bedroom before motioning her guests to the sitting area.

"I'm sorry if it's…" she trailed off, biting her lower lip in thought.

"Messy?" Balthier finished for her.

Valeia let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah…Oh!" She stuck her hand out towards Fran. "I'm sorry. I forgot that we haven't met. I'm Valeia. If I'm not mistaken your name is…Fran?"

"Yes," Fran responded, shaking the woman's hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"And you as well," Valeia grinned. Looking back over to Balthier, she folded her hands in her lap. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

Balthier glanced over at Fran, who gave him a nod, before saying, "Have you heard anything about the recent crimes? The hovercrafts stolen from Draklor, the six missing merchants, and the fires in Old Archades?"

Valeia's brow quickly creased in concern. "Fires? What caught on fire?"

"From what we were told, several abandoned buildings. As far as we know, there weren't any deaths."

"Abandoned building_s? _As in, plural? Ffamran, you know how many people live in abandoned buildings down there! Some are _packed_ with the homeless! It's impossible that there hasn't been a death because of it. _Impossible_. Typical government bullshit…"

"Calm down, Val. I don't even know how many buildings were burned down, nor do I know _where _in Old Archades they were. For all we know, they could have been truly abandoned." Balthier turned to Fran to give her a brief explanation, "Valeia grew up in the slums and gets a bit testy when it comes to the government's treatment of the people there."

"As I should," Valeia added.

Fran nodded. "I see."

"Now," Balthier continued, "_the crimes_?"

The woman sighed, her gaze wandering out the window as she spoke. "Right. I have heard about those other two. But I don't know a thing about them…Why do you ask?"

Balthier shrugged dismissively. "Oh, just curious. They seem a bit out of the ordinary for Archades, don't you think?"

"Many things are out of the ordinary these days." Valeia shifted her weight on the chair before continuing, "With the damage that the war had on the economy, people are becoming more desperate for money. Even _I've _noticed it. The hovercrafts are a strange thing to steal, but they _are_ worth a nice sum. And the merchants were probably just kidnapped by a group of hungry people desperate for a meal or whatever they were carrying. Or they could have just been attacked by a herd of courel. It does happen, y'know. I don't really think it's worth worrying about. Once the country's financial situation starts improving, it'll all stop."

Balthier nodded. "You're probably right. However, I've noticed many people are becoming unsettled by them."

Valeia shrugged and leaned back against the armchair. There was a moment of silence before Fran decided to speak up.

"I understand you were a scientist?" she asked.

"Yes; still am, actually." Valeia motioned towards the piles of papers. "That's all my work over there. I develop airships and fuel, but that's really it."

Fran leaned forward slightly, faking interest. "So you work at Draklor?"

"No, no! I used to, but I haven't been there in…what? Three, four years?" Valeia laughed. "That place is a hellhole, as I was telling Ffamran last night. The equipment and resources available to you as a scientist are amazing, but the people and what they research…well, you had a first-hand experience of the war."

Balthier jumped in, "How many people were involved with that?"

She thought for a moment before answering, "It had to be hundreds. You should've seen the stock of nethicite we had at one point. But the second they asked me to join in, I left."

"So you never came in contact with the nethicite?"

"Oh, I did. Several times. Cid encouraged me to use it in new ship models. I know why everyone was so amazed and transfixed by it. The power that it had…only the Gods know what it could have done if used properly! Even I stayed up late at night, wondering if I should use it. For a scientist, it was the greatest thing in the world. But they abused it. Their concern was weaponry, not new forms of energy. So I stayed away."

"I see—" Balthier stopped, suddenly coughing several times into his fist, only pausing to inhale a moment before continuing. His dry hacks sounded similar to an animal's barking, causing his host to jump in alarm. "Could I—" he coughed, "get some water?"

"Of course!" Valeia stood up and raced over to the small store of food in the kitchen area of her apartment. "Um…I'm all out. I'll go get some from a neighbor. Be right back!" She hurried out the door. Once it had been firmly closed, Balthier got up.

"How was that?" he said to Fran with a proud smirk.

"You are quite the actor," his partner responded. "What do you want to look at?"

Balthier strolled over to the piles of papers and placed a hand on top of one stack. "These." He began flipping through the various documents, Fran quickly joining him. They spent a little more than a minute scanning through them before Balthier found something that piqued his interest. Removing it from the stack, all he could read was Dr. Cid's sloppy signature at the bottom of what he assumed to be a letter before the door opened and Valeia rushed in the room.

"I've got the—" She cut herself off, seeing her guests hovering over her papers, Balthier's cough appearing to have vanished. "What're you doing…?"

Balthier turned around after sneaking the letter into his pocket. "Just looking at some of your blueprints. They're impressive, as always."

Valeia frowned and set the mug of water in her hand down on the counter. He grimaced as he saw a small cloud of dust rise upon impact. "You could've just asked."

"Well I didn't want to risk you saying no."

Fran held up one of the sketches that she had found of a large airship in an attempt to divert the attention from the fact that they had lied to her. It looked strangely familiar to Balthier for some reason. "This is the main flagship of the fleet that replaced the one Ghis destroyed, is it not?"

Valeia walked towards the Viera, squinting in an attempt to remember the model. "Um…yes," she answered after a second of thinking. "Yes, it is. It was my last project at Draklor before I quit. I believe it was later destroyed."

Fran placed a hand on the table, taking a look at the drawing again, analyzing it. "Forgive me if I am wrong but…I vaguely recall the ship using nethicite to destroy some of the Resistance's fleet. Ah, there's the chamber for it here." She held it back out towards the others as proof. Balthier just smirked as Valeia froze.

She opened her mouth to say something then closed it again. She had just told them that she had stayed away from the nethicite because of its improper use. Clearly, she had aided in developing a form of nethicite-driven weaponry as well. Balthier raised his eyebrows, his expression calmly demanding an explanation from her.

"Well…" she began, "maybe I _was _using nethicite a bit. But how could I not when Cid glorified it the way he did? I swear, when I realized how much devastation it caused, I quit. I just…felt guilty about having created something like that so I lied. I'm sorry, I really am!"

Balthier felt like something wasn't right about her explanation. Still, he was beginning to get anxious about reading the letter in his pocket. "Apology accepted. Now don't take this the wrong way, but we really must be going."

Valeia's face fell even more. "So soon?" she said, a bit of disappointment seeping into her voice.

"Yes, we've made arrangements to meet with the emperor. Unfortunately, the only time he had free was at two," Balthier said.

"I am sure our paths will cross again," Fran interjected. "We will be in town for a while longer. It was nice meeting you."

Valeia forced a smile. "And you as well, Fran. Oh, and if your ship needs any repairs or upgrades, just ask. It's the least I could do."

Balthier made his way towards the door. "Thank you. I'm sure the _Strahl_'s lacking something. I'll take you up for that sometime."

She nodded. "Well, it was nice seeing you again…_again_. Goodbye."

Fran and Balthier said their goodbyes and left, both relishing the taste of fresh air once they got back on the street. As they walked down the road, Balthier's hand hovered over his pocket. His fingers were itching to snatch it out and read it, but he couldn't there. No, there was too great a chance of someone reading it over his shoulder. He shook his head at his thoughts. It probably wasn't even an important letter. He was just building this up in his head. Still, there _was _a slim possibility that it could answer some of his questions…

Fran suddenly stopped walking. Balthier barely noticed and kept on going a few more paces before realizing her absence. Turning around, he shot her a quizzical look.

"Should we read it here?" The Viera gestured towards the building they were standing in front of, which Balthier realized was a bar, one of their preferred places for discussions. There were no waiters and usually more than half of the customers were drunk, creating enough noise for the sober people to be distracted by anyone else's conversation. To be honest, Balthier was glad that Fran saw his eagerness. To wait until they returned to their room at the palace would have been absolute torture.

"Yes, I could do with some liquid relaxation," he said, and the two entered the bar. They picked out a table in the back of the room that was against a wall and was surrounded by only other empty tables. After taking their seats, Balthier didn't wait a second to pull out the letter.

The first thing he noticed was the fact that nearly the entire letter had been scratched out with black ink to the point where only the first few sentences were legible. It didn't seem to be out of frustration, just boredom, as Balthier spotted a few stick figures behind the random lines. It didn't take long for him to spot the date, one of the few things not crossed out, and his brow creased in thought.

"Fran…do you have any idea what the date was when we reached the top of the Pharos?"

Fran gently took the letter from him and looked at the date as well. "Not the exact day, but it was certainly before then. This was written perhaps two or three weeks afterwards."

"Strange…" Balthier muttered, taking the letter back. After staring at the date for a second more to make sure that the year was right, he began to read the few sentences still legible aloud:

"'Dear Valeia, I apologize for not contacting you sooner. Hopefully everyone has continued to work on without me. It is a shame that...'I can't read anything past that." He inwardly sighed and threw the paper down on the table. He had been right—the note hadn't told them anything. Then again, the date was rather peculiar. Could Cid be…? No, it was impossible. He had seen his father die with his own two eyes, had heard his last words. The letter had to have been pre-written, or even someone trying to trick Valeia.

"The date bothers me," Fran commented.

"Me too. We'll have to look out for anything suspicious." Balthier folded up the letter and slipped it back into his pocket, even though it was nearly worthless. He figured that he might as well keep it around, just in case that date proved to be useful. "So, what did you think of my old friend?"

"She was kind. I do not trust her, though."

"I wasn't expecting you to. I never fully have. She was born and raised in Old Archades, so you never know what's going on in that mind of hers."

Fran crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back in her chair slightly. "If she was raised in the slums, then how did she end up with Draklor's elite?"

"Coincidence and scholarship." At Fran's questioning look, Balthier rested his arms on the table and lowered his voice, as though what he was about to say was a secret. "She had always been good with airships and had tried repairing some old ones in a junk yard on her own. One day there was an airship crash--a small one, nobody was hurt--in the middle of the city. Its location made it so that it couldn't be moved by machinery, so the only option was to fix it. Problem was, it was a very old model and nobody had the wires needed to completely fix the engine, or whatever was broken. Valeia had developed universal wires, something unheard of at the time, and snuck over to fix it herself--they wouldn't allow her to attempt to because she was only thirteen. Or fourteen. No matter. Long story short, she was able to repair it, my father was there, he was impressed and convinced that she was some sort of child prodigy, and gave her a full scholarship to the junior Akademy--"

"Where you were attending, correct?"

Balthier nodded. "However, she was completely and utterly dumb when it came to anything besides airships or things that related to them. We got partnered up for a project, we became friends, and then I helped her get through school. That's part of the reason why I don't trust her even now that she's left the slums. Sometimes she simply does not know anything. That and she became my father's apprentice, which makes me think that she used nethicite much more than she said and perhaps is involved in something right now, what with her 'private work.'"

The thought was not a pleasant one. What if she was continuing Cid's legacy? It would explain the Draklor theft a bit. He shook the thought off. He had other things to worry about right now than Valeia and his father. They still hadn't even looked at the crime scenes yet.

Balthier's eyes trailed over to the bar as he tried to relax a bit. He noticed that they had his favorite ale and smiled."Did you happen to catch the name of this place?"

"I did not notice it."

"Hm. Well, we'll find our way back. I'd like to come back here later."


End file.
